English poem
Ix
O let me see wild terror there Upon her face! the wilder frown Of crime’s apprisal, and renown Of my life’s injury, that bare This horror with its bloody crown!-- No pity, God! For, if her gown, Suspending looseness of her hair, Delay the plunge ... the night is brown ... My heel must crush her white face down, And Hell and Heaven see her drown.